


Absence Makes the Heart

by EmerySaks7



Category: The Music Man
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-17
Updated: 2012-09-17
Packaged: 2017-11-14 11:07:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,297
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/514577
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmerySaks7/pseuds/EmerySaks7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marian Paroo battles insecurities regarding her relationship with Harold Hill when he leaves for a two-week trip to Des Moines, Iowa.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Heated Encounter

The chilly October evening was a perfect landscape for her current mood, Marian Paroo reflected testily. The usually-optimistic librarian had spent the better part of the day contemplating the reason for her present state of discontent.

It had been two weeks since Harold had left for Des Moines on a trip he had said was quite necessary for his musical emporium. A distributor in the large city had contacted Harold and informed him he had several items he needed to liquidate and asked if Harold would be interested. Of course, Harold had instantly wired back that he was indeed quite interested and would leave immediately for the capital.

Casting her thoughts back, she could recall their final evening together before he left quite well. Perhaps, too well, she conceded.

XXX

"This is a wonderful opportunity to get items for the Emporium at a heavy discount!" The excitement in Harold's voice had been palpable. He had spent the better part of the afternoon tying up a few loose ends at his shop before he was finally able to make his way over to West Elm to tell Marian about his unexpected, but extremely promising trip. As they sat on the swing in Marian's front yard, he rubbed his hands together in excitement. "The profit alone will be at least twice what I usually make when I sell them!" He shook his head in wonder. "I still can't believe how satisfying going legitimate has turned out to be."

Marian's light laughter floated across the night air, and Harold couldn't help but smile at the response his comment had elicited. Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he grinned. "You know what I mean."

"I do," she agreed and nestled her head against his shoulder. The cool night air danced across the yard, and Harold, conscious of Marian's slight shiver, tightened his embrace to bring her closer to him. As he leaned down to a place a light kiss along the top of her golden tresses, a wave of longing washed over him. He was suddenly struck by the realization that he would not see his beloved for the next two weeks and in being honest with himself, was a bit startled at how much that thought truly bothered him.

Upon his arrival in River City, Harold Hill had spent many days in the presence of Marian Paroo. His initial intent had been to woo his way into the librarian's good graces in order to distract her from his true intention to fleece the residents of her quiet little Iowa town. For that plan to work, he needed the beautiful young woman to fall under the spell of his salesmanship.

In the past, Harold would cozy up to the piano teacher of whatever town he had landed in and ingratiate himself into her life. His well-honed arsenal consisted of morning strolls, evenings spent at the local soda parlor and clandestine moonlight walks far away from prying eyes where his silver tongue could conjure up the most delightfully wicked ideas while still dancing within societal conventions. Harold Hill was a master when it came to a woman's heart, and he had no reservations about doing whatever it took to earn the lady's confidence and more importantly, her silence.

But, all that had changed the night of the River City sociable. The consummate con artist had come to the startling realization that while he had been rigorously plotting to steal more than merely Marian Paroo's heart, she had quietly and adeptly been working her way into his.

Once the door had been opened and his foot firmly wedged in it, he hadn't spent a day out of her company. Evenings were passed in quiet conversation as he escorted home from the library, dinners spent in the company of her mother and Winthrop and, when they could get away with it, a clandestine, yet painfully chaste (for Harold's standards), stroll to the footbridge long after the younger generation had made their way home for the night. The recollection of those evenings – especially ones spent at the footbridge – sent his pulse racing.

Momentarily closing his eyes, he tried to wrestle the sensation under control even as faint traces of lilacs infused his senses. Upon realizing the scent was most likely from Marian's soaps, his thoughts darted off into yet another direction – one which Harold would readily admit wasn't the most gentlemanly of avenues. He took a deep breath and indulged himself in a much-needed moment, collecting his thoughts before firmly reminding his inner gentleman that now was not the time or place to act upon such impulses; however, Marian, completely unaware of the internal battle being waged next to her, felt Harold shift beside her and raised her head to study him.

"Harold? Is something the matter?" Concern flitted across her eyes, even as passion deepened them.

Her innocent question, coupled with the clearly-evident emotion, proved to be his undoing. There was only so much a man could take, and Harold would be the first to admit that months of dancing around virtuous intentions had sorely tested his limits. Conceding internal defeat, he slid a steady hand behind Marian's neck and gently pulled her towards him, his eyes trained on the alluring lips so near his own. As his lips covered hers, he once again discovered the sweet taste that was distinctly Marian.

Marian gasped in surprise at the sudden and unexpected embrace, but as it so often happened, her shock quickly morphed into pleasure as Harold's kisses began to create the most intoxicating sensations. When Harold's free hand traveled down to rest upon her waist, Marian brought her own up around his neck and drew him closer. She could feel his fingers sink into the back of her hair and she sighed at the intimate gesture. Somewhere, in the back of her mind, she knew they had crossed the line of propriety, but at that particular moment, she didn't quite care. Her eyes tightened, and she found herself willfully falling deeper in to the sensations he was creating within her.

A soft sigh escaped her lips when Harold reluctantly pulled away from their embrace. The pools that so often mesmerized him were hidden beneath the long lashes of her closed eyes and so he sat, transfixed, until she slowly opened her eyes to gaze at him.

"You've bewitched me." There was a soft wonder in his voice as he spoke, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. That simple honesty told her more than his carefully-constructed words could ever say, and it touched Marian's heart even as she struggled to find the words to reply. Eventually realizing there were none, she simply slipped her hand into his and gave it a gentle squeeze.

They sat like that in contented silence for a while longer, Marian enjoying the comfortable weight of Harold's hand upon her own. Eventually though, he reluctantly shifted and turned to face her.

"As much as I hate to, I have to take my leave of you, Miss Marian. My train leaves bright and early, and I still have to finish packing," he admitted, reluctantly rising from the close quarters of the swing.

This admission was met with shocked disbelief. "Harold! You haven't packed? If I had known that, I would have sent you on your way much earlier," she delicately scolded, wagging a finger at him. "Honestly, what were you thinking?"

Delight coursed through Harold at Marian's mild reprimand. She, of course, was completely unaware of the charming domestic image she was inadvertently creating, but he absolutely loved it and was once again reminded of how much he wanted to bring that perception to reality. He captured the still-wagging finger and drew her to stand with him.

"Well, to be quite honest darling, I had other things than packing on my mind when I decided to come say goodbye," he confessed ruefully.

Marian's eyes widened and a slightly scandalized look graced her countenance. "I believe I should be shocked at such a provocative statement."

Harold nodded his agreement and then tentatively queried, "And, are you?"

Maintaining a steady gaze, she softly shook her head. "I find myself embarrassed to say I'm not."

"I'm glad," Harold admitted, a twinkle in his eyes. "But, I'll confess that I am a bit surprised."

"So I am," she murmured. "But, I don't think we should question it, sweetheart."

Harold nodded his head before softly capturing her lips in a kiss. Breaking away a moment later, he smiled and cupped her cheek in his hand. "I don't want to question anything, darling." He gave her one last longing smile. "You make it hard to say goodbye, Madame Librarian."

And with that, he took his leave of her.


	2. Old Insecurities

They had both gotten carried away. Marian could admit that, and even now her cheeks darkened upon recalling Harold's ardent kisses. She considered it quite fortunate that no one had chanced to walk by that evening. They would have certainly been given an eyeful, and Marian knew no amount of goodwill harbored by the citizens of River City could overlook such a breach of society's strictures. They really were going to have to do something about those heated moments, and if that night was any indication, she had a feeling it needed to be sooner rather than later.

With a frustrated sigh, Marian reached over and plucked the postcard that lay on her vanity. On the front, it showed a picture of the sprawling capital city, Des Moines. Marian was fascinated by the jutting buildings, labyrinth streets and monuments that dotted the landscape. It was a monster of a city and River City seemed quite quaint in comparison. Turning it over, she couldn't help but smile at Harold's familiar scrawl. He had obviously known that any message he wrote would be public knowledge within minutes of the card arriving in the River City post, so he had carefully chosen his words.

Marian's heart sped up as she read the message she had almost memorized in the past few days. In his own cunning way, he had communicated how much he missed her and how eager he was to return to River City. Marian could scarcely believe how much her fly-by-night salesman had changed during the past months, but it warmed her heart to know that he was missing her as much as she was him.

However, the card had arrived a week ago, and now she was desperately longing for her musical professor. Of course, she would never be so bold as to admit it aloud, but even Mama had noticed her lackluster spirit over the last few days.

She exhaled softly and replaced the card on the vanity. Harold had said he would be gone no longer than two weeks. Tomorrow would be exactly two weeks. She knew her fears were irrational and unfounded. The man had established a business. He had purchased a home. His actions and affection communicated the love he possessed for her. Still, in the cold chill of an autumn evening, her buried fears couldn't help but resurface a little.

Marian frowned in irritation as another wave of doubt tried to wash over her. "Honestly, Marian Paroo! The man faced an entire town of people ready to boil tar and pluck feathers. And you're ready to question his love simply because he hasn't returned according to your schedule?" she chastised aloud.

Shaking her head, she laughed as she realized how silly it all was. Harold had told her two weeks. Once he had professed his love for her, he had never given her any cause to doubt his word. Her resolve strengthened, she rose from her vanity. Mama and Winthrop had already retired for the evening, and she'd do well to do the same. But first, she decided to treat herself to a cup of hot tea. After everything she had been through tonight, she deserved one.


	3. For the Love of a Maiden

It was well into late evening when Harold finally stepped foot outside the River City freight depot. The autumn air was cool but not cold, which surprised him. He had thought by now the weather would have tapered off into nights laden with a hint of winter chill, but thus far, it had remained rather pleasant; however, he wasn't going to complain about the lack of cold. The annual Fireman's Ball, held every fall at the Opera House, was almost upon them, and he welcomed the temperate weather. A mild night would be the perfect setting for a moonlight stroll to the footbridge after an evening of dancing with Marian nestled in his arms.

His mind drifted to the last time he had embraced his dear librarian. His heart quickened at the recollection of her warm hand enfolded in his as he had drawn her closer to him. A sheepish smile crossed his features, and he couldn't help but chuckle. A year ago, he would have scolded himself for such thoughts. It would have been downright embarrassing for the great Professor Harold Hill to be caught mooning over a woman, and a librarian, no less. But now, he had no qualms in freely admitting that he was completely captivated.

He had once confessed that he didn't often find himself at a loss for words, but in Marian's company, he sometimes found himself struggling to vocalize even the simplest of thoughts. Granted, it happened rather infrequently, but still, the phenomenon was new to him and somewhat unsettling. It was a tad disconcerting to realize he'd finally met the one woman who not only could, but often would, verbally tango with him and emerge victorious.

But even more than that, it was her unspoken thoughts communicated through glances bathed in silence that captivated him. A single look from her, especially when it happened to be the dreamy expression he so dearly loved, could do more to him than any words she might speak. And when she chose to draw closer to him and grace him with her affections … well, he didn't stand a chance.

He had recalled their last evening several times during his lonely trip, and the delightful distraction figured heavily in his thoughts during the train ride from Des Moines. He was eager for Marian to be in his arms once more and only hoped she would be as well. The lengthy return home afforded him the opportunity to acknowledge that perhaps he'd gotten carried away that night. Surprise and delight had coursed through him as Marian's hands slid across the back of his neck, her fingers trailing through his hair. It had been their most intimate moment, by far, and he knew, beyond a shadow of doubt, that she would have experienced some remorse the following morning for allowing such an indiscretion to occur.

This thought bothered Harold. He never wanted to do anything to cause Marian embarrassment. He knew that beneath her proper Victorian upbringing lurked a passionate woman. The thinly veiled glimpses of yearning he had seen emanating from her eyes assured him of that. But, she didn't consciously recognize this in herself, yet. Although she wasn't aware of what she unwittingly communicated, Harold was, and he found it difficult to contain the longing he experienced in her company. For a man who was accustomed to finding satisfaction in the space of a few short weeks, Harold Hill was learning the saintly art of patience in regards to Marian Paroo.

Although he realized it was a somewhat questionable hour to pay a social call, Harold couldn't tolerate the thought of not seeing Marian, even if only for a few moments. He had spent two weeks away from her, and those two weeks had been interminable. During the long, lonely nights in his hotel room, he had reached the undeniable conclusion that although he could choose to live without Marian Paroo, a life such as that would be merely existing and not truly living.

Everything he now did centered on the trusting and virtuous woman he had left behind in River City. The realization, when it had come, had been a startling one, and he was grateful that he'd been given time alone to ponder it. Impulsive by nature and fueled by wanderlust so fully ingrained in his character, Harold had initially fought against the subtle voice that quietly encouraged him to hang up his bachelor hat, so to speak. Three sleepless nights later, though, he finally let the last doubt die and had completely given himself over to the recognition that he was a changed man. More importantly, he wanted those changes to last and vowed to do everything in his power to see that Marian's faith in him never had reason to be questioned. It was for this reason, he found himself strolling through River City's darkened streets.

As the lights from the corner of West Elm spilled into view, he was pleased to see a dim light glowing through the parlor windows. Somebody was still awake at the Paroo home. He fervently hoped it was Marian. As he drew closer, he was disappointed to observe front gate was latched. He frowned and glanced up at Marian's darkened window. Perhaps they had merely left a light on? It would be out of character for Mrs. Paroo to do so. Harold knew this, because many a night when unable to sleep, he would stroll through the small town, collecting his thoughts or contemplating new ideas for his business. Inevitably, he would make his way to the large Victorian house where Marian lay sleeping. She would, no doubt, blush scarlet to know he had spent many a moment fondly gazing up at her window, bidding her a good night's sleep before finally ambling back to his own home, his restless thoughts calmed as a sense of contentment settled over him.

But wait … there, in the window. Harold saw the silhouette of a woman making her way from the kitchen into the parlor. Hurriedly unlatching the gate, he bounded up the steps and softly rapped at the door, loud enough to be heard, but not so much as to wake anyone who might be sleeping. A twinge of concern that someone might see him flitted through the back of his mind, but he quickly brushed it aside as inconsequential.

In all the time that Harold had called upon Marian, she had been the epitome of a proper lady. Whether swept up off her neck or arranged in fetching curls that lay charmingly around her shoulders, her hair was always neatly coiffed, her dresses pressed. With the exception of a few times (when Harold had managed to maneuver them away from prying eyes), she had done her best to remain well in view when enjoying Harold's company. And although she had once endured the untoward reputation of a scandalous woman, Harold and the rest of River City had quickly come to realize the town's librarian was a lady from the ground up. But tonight, it seemed Providence had decided to play havoc with Harold's self-imposed restraint and allow him a fleeting glimpse of what lay in store for him should he continue to pursue Marian Paroo.

As the door swung inward, he opened his mouth to greet whoever stood behind it, but his brain momentarily backfired, and Harold, completely mesmerized, forgot to breathe as the front entrance opened to reveal Marian, tea cup in hand, clad simply in a fetching lingerie frock.


	4. An Unexpected Homecoming

Harold Hill couldn't believe his good fortune. Not only was it Marian that answered the door, but she did so wearing the most enchanting ensemble he'd ever seen. It was at this moment he fully realized how completely in love he truly was with her and how much he had missed his lovely librarian.

As Harold gazed at Marian, he couldn't stop his eyes from wandering up and down her silhouetted form. He had witnessed many variations in her wardrobe during the last three months, and he even had a few favorites. He was particularly fond of the pink dress she had worn to the Ice Cream sociable and would forever associate it with their first kiss. His heart quickened each time she favored him with the blue ensemble she had first worn that day when they had taken their first real steps toward friendship over phosphates at the Candy Kitchen. But, he had never seen Marian Paroo in anything so innocently revealing as what she was wearing at that moment.

The sheer white cotton dress was a simple design, with a rounded neckline and lace … everything, he realized. There was a lace yoke, sleeves adorned with lace cuffs that stopped just above her elbows, lace trim along the waistline of the gown and lace ruffles that cascaded over her shoulders. The skirt that fell to the floor was covered in lace from thigh to ankle. Adding to the vision in white was the realization that he had obviously caught her only moments before she retired for the evening. Her silken tresses were slightly disheveled; her complexion neatly scrubbed and fresh.

Although Harold had seen her hair down before, it had never been in an unguarded moment such as this. Usually coifed in a neat chignon, it was now unpinned allowing the loose curls to softly fall around her shoulders in a rather intimate fashion. He could still smell the subtle traces of lilac. And although quite faint, he could discern the slightest outline of her chemise through the sheer fabric. The lack of any accoutrements, coupled with the fact that she was no longer in the bustling layers that society required, caught him off guard, and he couldn't help but stare, the sight having rendered him speechless. Without thought, he visibly swallowed and unconsciously reached up to tug on his collar in response to the unusual warmth he was suddenly experiencing.

Marian, for her part, was torn between desire and displeasure. On one hand, there stood Harold, whom she had been missing fiercely during the last two weeks. His suit was rumpled, hair slightly disheveled with one lock falling over his forehead in a way that always made her heart beat faster, and she could see the faint outline of stubble that graced his lower face. The picture he presented was roguish and handsome – precisely what she had been dreaming of the last few nights.

On the other hand, there stood Harold, on her porch, late in the evening, with her only a few footsteps away from him in her lingerie dress. Although the garment was well within propriety, she somehow doubted that any of the women on the Ladies Committee, were they to pass by, would be so kind as to give her the benefit of the doubt. Of course, during the past few months, her friendships with the women had grown, and she'd become fond of them and they of her. They had come to realize the sordid gossip that had once concerned Marian Paroo was simply that – gossip. It was one thing for them to put those old beliefs aside in favor of seeing Marian conform to society's social mores. But, it was another thing entirely to ask them to do that as she entertained her sweetheart on her front porch in what was virtually nothing more than an evening frock. She belatedly realized it happened to be the sheerest of the lingerie garments she possessed and had to suppress a sigh at the irony that tonight would be the evening Harold chose to return.

Her internal conflict played out in a matter of mere seconds as Harold continued to gape at her. An insistent voice at the back of her mind was urging her to have Harold wait a moment while she slipped into something a little more appropriate, but before she could even open her mouth to greet him, he had dropped his suitcase on the porch with a soft thud and pulled her into his arms. Her startled exclamation faded into silence as his lips descended upon hers and communicated hello in a far better way than mere words could ever hope to express.

As her lips met his, Marian's anxiety faded away, and she realized she was no longer concerned about maintaining an air of propriety. Harold was home, and she was in his arms. That's all that mattered. She knew she'd most likely harbor feelings of embarrassment tomorrow morning when she could fully reflect upon the situation, but she let those thoughts float away on the tide of delightful sensations Harold was creating within her. But an instant later, when she felt his hand slip from her waist to rest softly on the curve of her hip, she stiffened and pulled back from his kiss.

Harold, aware that he had crossed an unspoken line, immediately removed his hand and was instantly apologetic as he scrambled to find the words necessary to communicate his remorse. "Marian, I'm sorry. I got caught up in the moment, and that was inexcusable. I –"

But, his request for pardon was silenced by the feel of her finger gently coming to rest upon his lips. Reminded of a similar incident early on in their courtship, he raised his eyes to hers and was greeted by the reflection of his own desire mirrored within her gaze. The sound of her slightly arduous breathing floated by his ears, and he was immensely gratified to know he wasn't the only one who had been so deeply affected by their amorous embrace. But, a small feeling of regret nagged at him as he observed how visibly shaken Marian was from the encounter.

She took another step away from him, using the opportunity to collect her thoughts. After a brief pause, she leveled her gaze at him, and Harold was relieved to see a small smile lift the corners of her mouth. "If I ever hear you apologizing again for expressing your love and affection, _Mister_ Hill, I will find a bucket of tar and personally pluck the chicken myself."

Harold's eyes widened at her words and then danced with laughter as he comprehended that she was forgiving him and his momentary lapse of judgment. He chuckled softly and raised two fingers to his forehead in salute.

"Yes, ma'am."

Marian rolled her eyes at his display, but then grew serious. "However, I do think you and I need to have a conversation regarding what is and isn't proper, Professor," she informed him with a pointed look. Her meaning and tone weren't lost on Harold, and he nodded in agreement.

"Indeed we do, Madam Librarian. In fact, there are a couple of things I'd like to discuss."

Upon this enigmatic answer, it was Marian's turn to look puzzled. "Oh?"

But, Harold wasn't ready to disclose anything just yet. Reaching down, he retrieved his suitcase in one hand. "Now isn't the time for such a discussion, Miss Paroo," he admonished and winked at her. "But, may I call upon you tomorrow evening for a visit to the Candy Kitchen and perhaps a stroll to the footbridge?"

Marian could only shake her head in amusement. Leave it to Harold to turn the tables on her and then leave her wanting.

"I think that can be arranged," she allowed with a smile and was pleased to note Harold's beaming grin at her permission.

"Then, I shall take my leave of you, Miss Marian. I've imposed long enough already, and I don't want any harm to come to your sterling reputation."

He jumped back a step to avoid the playful swat Marian sent his way and chuckled softly as he caught her hand. His expression grew gentle as he gazed at it. A moment later, he slowly traced her ring finger with his thumb and exhaled softly before lifting his eyes to hers. He could see that he had taken her by surprise with the sudden change in his demeanor and could only offer a lopsided grin in response. When her gaze remained steadily fixed on him, he chose to share a small, yet truthful, part of what was coursing through his thoughts.

"I missed you, darling. More than you can imagine."

His heartfelt statement touched Marian and the significance of his gentle caress upon her finger didn't escape her notice. She inhaled a shaky breath and hoped that the tears she felt welling up in her eyes would not be noticed. Perhaps there was a coy answer she should give in response to Harold's admission. Maybe she ought not fully reveal what was in her heart. But, Marian had never been one to indulge in games, and she lacked experience in the realm of love. So, in her typical, ingenuous manner, she stepped closer and softly breathed, "I missed you, too, Harold. Every day and every night."

It took every ounce of strength Harold possessed not to draw her into his arms and demonstrate just how much he had yearned for her during the last two weeks. Later, when looking back upon that night, he would never know how he had resisted. But somehow he did, and stepping back, he fixed his gaze on her. "I'll call upon you tomorrow evening when the library closes, Marian," he told her in a voice laced with restrained passion.

She nodded mutely, not trusting herself to say anything and not daring to do something that might cause Harold to lose the control he was clearly exercising at the moment. She watched as he turned away from her and made his way down the steps and out her front gate. Allowing herself one final glance at his retreating figure, she waited until he had turned the corner before softly closing the door. Her teacup, sitting on a small table near the entrance, was forgotten as she drifted upstairs lost in a world of thought.

Harold waited until he had rounded the corner of West Elm before exhaling the breath he'd been holding in an effort to leave the very dangerous situation he had placed Marian in. He shouldn't have come to see her tonight. He knew that now. It might not have been as dangerous had she not answered the door in such an innocently-provocative outfit. The knowledge that she had not intentionally set out to captivate him was the only thing that had held him back from giving into the thoughts that had been racing through his mind.

He had given serious thought about his and Marian's future while in Des Moines. He had even gone so far as to do something about it. Now, after tonight, he knew he'd have to do something soon. They were playing with fire, and eventually, they were going to get burned. An image of Marian in her frock popped, unbidden, into his mind, and he couldn't help but grin sheepishly at the thought that accompanied it.

 _Yes, he might get burned, but it would be well worth it_!

He quickly chastised himself and did his best to remind his errant thoughts that it wasn't only himself he had to be concerned about anymore. That thought sobered him a bit, and he resumed the walk back to his home. He was tired. He needed a hot bath and a shave. But, he had seen his lovely librarian and that alone was enough to lift his spirits for a week. He decided to get a good night's sleep. That was what he needed most right now. A refreshed Professor Hill could put his mind to developing a plan much better than a depleted one could.

Reaching down into his coat, he fingered the small, velvet box that lay nestled deep in his pocket.

 _Yes_ , he decided, _tomorrow he would have to set about putting a plan into motion_.


End file.
